


blooming

by naeildo



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Canon, post-disbandment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21757537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naeildo/pseuds/naeildo
Summary: Jeongyeon, Sana, and five weddings.
Relationships: Minatozaki Sana/Yoo Jeongyeon
Comments: 4
Kudos: 143





	blooming

**SPRING**

“Really wished I could have slipped right past the red carpet,” Sana says, from behind her, and Jeongyeon nearly jumps. She doesn’t, because she’ll fall in her too-high heels, and also because Sana has wound a careful arm around her waist, steadying her. Sana taps at the corner of her eye with a finger when Jeongyeon looks back at her, face scrunched up into a smile. “Those years of looking straight into flashes definitely gave me eye problems.”

“Where are the rest of them?” Jeongyeon says, absentmindedly, and Sana’s face falls just a little. She’s about to correct herself when a shape clad in a red velvet dress storms up to join them. 

“Was that rude?”

“What?” Sana says, laughing. Her eyes are twinkling. “Bulldozing through that crowd of people who were just minding their business?”

Nayeon blinks. “No, I didn’t say hi to Tzuyu before coming over.”

“Oh,” Jeongyeon says. “I didn’t either.”

“Oh,” Nayeon says. “Okay! We’ll just do it later when she’s drunk. That way we can see her cry,” Nayeon says, front teeth peeking out as she grins.

“Oh, you’re _horrible_ ,” Sana says, conspiratorially, which suggests to Jeongyeon that seeing Tzuyu cry has now become a shared goal of theirs.

“Be nice,” Jeongyeon says. Her voice is a little serious, something she’d thought she left behind in their shared dormitory, but the two of them tend to bring it out of her, still. Sana’s hand finds her own as they make their way to the table.

  
  


“When did you get here?” Jeongyeon asks, finally, when the fish dish has reached their table. Sana had only been nibbling at the appetizers, and Jeongyeon was starting to worry. She scoops a large chunk of fish and places it on Sana’s plate.

“Thank you,” Sana says, and uses a strong hand to pull Jeongyeon back into her seat. The waiters have brought larger utensils now to split the flesh, and Jeongyeon is just getting in the way.

Jeongyeon flushes. Turns to Sana to make conversation. “When did you get here?”

“Yesterday morning,” Sana says, cutting up a piece of fish and popping it into her mouth. “I put it on the groupchat.”

“Oh,” Jeongyeon says. She’d arrived last night, stumbling through buying a hi-card with her poor Mandarin before taking a train down to the city center. “Sorry.”

Sana looks up, and there’s something playful in her eyes. “There’s no need to apologize,” Sana giggles, and Momo looks over from the other side of the table before going back to her food.

They’d seen each other just weeks ago, on an impromptu trip to Busan that Sana had always wanted to go on and that Jeongyeon had suspiciously been the only one available for. But even after that, Jeongyeon had already started to feel like she and Sana were inevitably losing contact, and maybe it was for the better - shorter term pain traded in for whatever her feelings for Sana, dragged out and dangerous, could be.

“You haven’t texted me in days,” Sana says, suddenly, and there’s hurt in there that Jeongyeon is struggling to unpack.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to,” Jeongyeon says, “with the group chat being so active and everything, we-”

“I said _you_ haven’t texted _me_ in days, Jeongyeon,” Sana says, looking up from her plate. She’s almost done with her fish.

“Oh,” Jeongyeon registers. Jihyo is looking at them curiously from beside Sana. “Okay.”

  
  
  


**SUMMER**

They’re already waiting for her at the barricade when she’s dragging her luggage out to the conveyor belt, the two of them waving like madmen from where they are, faces clad in bright pink masks. Don’t they worry about getting recognized?

Her Japanese has become rusty from lack of use now, but there’s still enough to tide her through immigration and to the correct belt. She taps her foot against the floor as she waits for her black suitcase to emerge, then drags it carefully out of the glass doors, where she gets suffocated by two girls in sundresses.

_We’vemissedyousomuchIcan’tbelieveyoutooksolongtogetheredoyouknowthatMomocriedwhenyoutoldusyouweredelayedbyaweek-_

“Shut up,” Momo bites, aiming for Sana’s side and hitting Jeongyeon instead, which makes Jeongyeon curl in on herself in the middle of a busy Kansai airport.

“Can you fight later? We kinda have a wedding to go to,” Jeongyeon scolds, laughing, but Momo’s already pulled down her mask to nuzzle into Jeongyeon’s shoulder, probably leaving snot on her hundred-thousand-won jacket. 

“You still have _three whole days_ with us,” Sana says, smiling, and there’s something that hollows in Jeongyeon’s chest, too, at the sight of it. “And Mina won’t be here to save you!”

“We kinda thought you’d show up with a plus one,” Momo remarks, as Jeongyeon carefully presses down the corners of her face mask. They’re sharing a bed for old times’ sake, which Jeongyeon is already starting to regret with the way Momo has stolen all of the blanket real estate. She can hear Sana’s soft voice floating out from the shower, a Japanese song booming from the waterproof speakers. Their day consisted of, from what Jeongyeon can recall, a lot of excited squealing, Sana hitting her head against one of the toy drumsticks in the Arcade, and Momo biting into a candied apple before accidentally swallowing the piece whole.

Jeongyeon’s mouth moves slowly and delicately. Her voice is muffled. “Why would you think that?” 

Jeongyeon can’t see Momo's face, only the reflection of it in their dresser mirror. Even the guestroom in Sana’s house is ornate, decorated with so many things that Jeongyeon was dizzy the first time she walked in.

Momo shrugs, but there’s something careful about the way she says her next sentence. “Sana said a boy has been appearing a lot on your Insta stories lately,” 

“Oh,” Jeongyeon says. _It’s nothing,_ Jeongyeon thinks, first, and then realizes she shouldn’t be thinking that at all. She’d never really gotten into it, but they’re still texting here and there. It should be _something_ , shouldn’t it? “It’s nothing serious,” she says, just as Sana unlocks the door. She’s wearing nothing but a bathrobe, and Jeongyeon can see the dip of her neckline into the pale skin of Sana’s chest. She wants to look away. She wants to keep staring. Her cheeks are burning, she’s sure, and hopes Sana doesn’t notice. 

“What’re you guys talking about?” Sana asks, voice happy, the song blasting clearly through the open door now.

“Nothing,” Jeongyeon says, at the same time Momo says: “Jeongyeon isn’t seeing anyone.”

Sana’s face shuffles through a few different things all at once, and Jeongyeon hasn’t seen her in so long that it’s almost difficult to catch any of them. Finally, it settles into something that Jeongyeon can’t quite recognize, brittle at the edges.

“That’s a pity,” Sana says, voice soft, and Jeongyeon doesn’t know how to feel. Never knows, when it comes to Sana. “I was all ready to congratulate you.” 

“Were you?” Jeongyeon says, unthinking, and Sana pauses drying her hair to look back at Jeongyeon, hands propped up in the pink towel.

“What?”

“Were you going to congratulate me?” Jeongyeon asks, and it’s dangerous, the game she’s trying to play. Sana’s eyes widen, and they dart back and forth from Momo to Jeongyeon.

“Of course,” Sana says, and Jeongyeon recognizes this voice. The one she puts on for fans who used to come up to them in the middle of the street, the one she put on when she was backstage and just wanted to get moving so they could get to their next destination. Sana’s hands go back to kneading at her hair. “Wouldn’t you do the same for me?”

“Of course,” Jeongyeon says, because there’s nothing else she can.

  
  


There’s something about weddings that makes Jeongyeon dream of impossible things, like flying out to Kyoto to get married at a place overlooking a harbour. Mina has always loved the sea, and the breeze is strong, here, whipping Jeongyeon’s hair into her face with abandon. They’ll have to go inside to prepare soon, but there’s something glorious about standing here, her feet inches away from the water.

“What are you thinking about?” A voice beside her says, and Jeongyeon startles. Mina’s already put on a full face of makeup for later, but it doesn’t even look garish on her. Mina has never really known how to look anything but beautiful.

“Shouldn’t you be inside like, I don’t know, knocking yourself out with all your responsibilities right now?”

Jeongyeon had offered to help, of course, but there was so much Japanese everywhere and Mina constantly pulling her out of the fray, asking her to sit out for once. She’d acquiesced at some point, let Sana lead her out to this harbour before the other girl went back to settle one thing or another.

Mina’s smile is bright, crooked at the edges. “Shouldn’t you not be snacking so you can fit into your bridesmaid’s dress later?” She’s cocking her head at the bread in Jeongyeon’s hand, and Jeongyeon can’t help but laugh, raising her hands up in surrender.

“Caught me.”

“I heard you weren’t seeing anyone,” Mina says, suddenly, and Jeongyeon can’t help but laugh again. It seems that word will always travel fast with them, no matter the year.

Jeongyeon shakes her head. Pelicans are starting to gather on the outpost, flapping around in the water. Jeongyeon pulls off a piece of bread and hurls it into the water.

“Hey, Minari,” Jeongyeon says, right as Mina’s about to speak. “Oh, you go first.”

Mina’s smiling. “You can go first. I’ll have a whole speech later.”

“Have you ever -” The sun is high in the sky now. “Have you ever seen Finding Nemo?”

If the question surprises her, Mina doesn’t show it, just fixes Jeongyeon with the most serious of looks. Opens her mouth to speak: “P. Sherman 42 Wallaby Way.” It’s in perfect English, the kind Jeongyeon had come to expect from Mina in functions where the rest of them were floundering, and Jeongyeon is laughing so hard that she’s bowling over, hand anchored onto Mina’s arm. Mina is shaking too, letting the jitters of the day escape as she laughs with her. When Jeongyeon straightens up again, she has tears in her eyes from laughing, and Mina is looking at her, eyes soft.

“Do you think you love him like that? That you’d travel thousands of miles to find him?”

Mina closes her eyes. “I love many people like that, Yoo Jeongyeon-ssi,” Mina says, finally, and Jeongyeon snorts.

“Clever answer.”

Mina clicks her tongue.

“Who were you thinking of? Just now.”

Jeongyeon hums. She knows what Mina’s asking, but the answer is scarier than she wants it to be, a blur of a smile haloed in the dim evening light. “When?”

Mina shakes her head once. There’s a smile on her face, signals that she’ll leave Jeongyeon to whatever she needs to figure out. “I hope Tzuyu cries later,” she says, and Jeongyeon laughs. 

  
  
  


**AUTUMN**

“Jeongyeon-ssi,” she hears. Sana’s approach had already been announced by the rustling noises she’d made with her bare feet on the grass, but Jeongyeon still startles when Sana’s fingers curl around her shoulders, touch gentle and barely-there before she slips in next to her. Jeongyeon stows her phone into her bag.

When Jeongyeon had still been paying attention, Sana was over on the other side of the garden, wrapped up in an enclave of flowers, making loud noises of awe with Momo by her side. They were wearing matching floral dresses for the occasion, Sana in light pink and Momo light yellow. Jeongyeon isn’t sure what she really expected from Chaeyoung’s wedding, but the pollen here has been distracting at best, and allergy-inducing at worst. It just makes everything feel even more wonderful, somehow, the way most inexplicable things Chaeyoung does end up being.

“Hi,” Jeongyeon says. Her throat is dry, and Sana looks even more beautiful up-close, brown hair falling just above her shoulders. “You cut your hair.”

“You too,” Sana says, and reaches out to brush the ends of Jeongyeon’s own between her fingers. Hers is a clipped, dark black bob. Sana’s smile is brighter than Jeongyeon remembers - the one she sees in her dreams is always a little duller, somehow, and in the videos that she watches of all of them sometimes to remember. This one is real, Sana’s hands falling back into her lap, Jeongyeon’s breath catching in her lungs. “You know, I think this means we haven’t seen each other in a while,” Sana says, teasing, but there’s truth in her voice, and Jeongyeon won’t pretend not to hear it.

It’s been a while since they’ve met, for one reason or another - being in different countries, Sana’s ever-growing list of schedules. Jeongyeon taking off to New Zealand for the hell of it. Seungyeon had sent Sana some pictures at her behest, until Jeongyeon got roped in to carry her around in her pocket on the trip. Then they’d stopped speaking for a while outside of the group chat, as they were given to doing sometimes. Jeongyeon goes through the sequence of events in her mind, and wonders if she’s thinking over facts or excuses.

“Did you miss me?” Sana asks, softly, before Jeongyeon could think of something to say in response. Sana’s hand has found its way to her thigh, just above her knee, and Jeongyeon stills.

“You’re always asking me difficult questions,” Jeongyeon says, but feels her lips curl up on their own accord. Sana mirrors it, leaning closer so their shoulders are brushing, head cocking as she looks up at Jeongyeon. The ratten chair is digging shallow patterns into her thighs. Everything is so easy and so difficult with Sana, somehow, as it always has been.

“Here, I’ll go first,” Sana says. There’s a song that’s started to play in the background that Jeongyeon doesn’t recognize, a little loud and off-kilter, but she imagines it’s signalling that the ceremony will be starting soon. “I missed you very very much,”

“Sometimes I think you miss my sister more,” Jeongyeon says, lightly, and Sana’s lips drops into a frown.

Sana’s fingers trace the dip of Jeongyeon’s jaw. They’re warm, and it’s taking all of Jeongyeon’s willpower not to pull away. She closes her eyes, slow and soft. “I don’t think I’ve missed anyone more than I have you,” Sana says, and it’s deliberate, clear. Formal, almost, as if she can’t have her misunderstanding this.

Jeongyeon breathes out. They’re in public - a small group of them, but there are still people here they don’t know, and people whom they do. “You’re always saying difficult things, too,” Jeongyeon says, finally, and Sana laughs. It’s tinkling. 

“It’s because of all these feelings I have for you,” Sana says, softly, and there’s humour in her voice. An out that Sana always leaves for her, and Jeongyeon has taken it every time. She’s already leaning back into her seat. The emcees are taking their place onstage. Sana’s already starting to smile as the rest of them stream back to the table, Jeongyeon’s eyes already on the ring of green that Chaeyoung is about to step through so she doesn’t have to see the way Sana is looking at her. “I never know what to do with them, Jeongyeon-ssi.”

  
  


**WINTER**

Jeongyeon loses her voice halfway through the night. She’d had a loud morning, already, screaming down the house at the groom trying to enter Nayeon’s apartment, and promptly stops speaking in the middle of her emcee duties at the realization that all that she can force out is a wheeze.

Nayeon is screaming with laughter somewhere from her table, and Jeongyeon scuttles off, lets Jihyo take over. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Dahyun says, letting her take up half the seat. Jeongyeon has too much shame to slink black to the bride’s table where Jihyo’s empty seat stares back at her, and Chaeyoung is laughing too hard to speak next to her.

“You did such a good job,” Sana says, fingers tangling through her hair that’s grown long now, falls past her shoulders. Her touch is warm.

“Until you croaked into the mic,” Tzuyu adds, happily, and Jeongyeon slaps a hand at her haphazardly.

  
  


When Jeongyeon has finally nursed her throat back to health on a diet of water, most of them have already gotten shitfaced drunk. Nayeon has her husband now, which leaves Sana as the worst offender of them all, hanging off Jeongyeon’s arm like a koala.

“You’re lucky your flight isn’t in the morning,” Jeongyeon chides, softly, lugging Sana to the car that’s waiting for her. 

“Jeongyeon,” Sana slurs, and then says something that Jeongyeon cannot understand for the life of her.

“What?”

“Wannagotoyourhouse,” Sana mumbles. 

“You’ve already booked a hotel,” she reminds her, but Sana just shakes her head and holds on even tighter.

“Yours,” Sana says. “Yours is mine.” Jeongyeon’s heart falls to her stomach. The chauffeur is staring at them. Sana’s eyes are starting to close. Jeongyeon gives him her address.

  
  


**SPRING**

“Don’t be so gloomy,” Sana says, hand sliding down Jeongyeon’s arm. Everyone has gotten up for the slow dance, leaving the two of them stranded here. Jeongyeon’s surprised Sana hasn’t grabbed someone from the grooms' table, with the way some of them have been looking over the whole night.

They’re playing an old song, one of Jihyo’s favourites, and Jeongyeon has been swaying uselessly in her seat. She’s never really loved dancing the way the others have, and Sana knows this, so the other girl just sits quietly with her, watching the proceedings. Jihyo is wearing a gorgeous dress that ends just above her ankles. It’s chic. 

“It’s been a year,” Jeongyeon says, suddenly, and feels Sana straighten against her side.

“Hmm?”

“Since we went to Busan. I named one star Ari, and you named the other Grande,” Jeongyeon says, and can’t help the smile that’s in her voice. “You were probably drunk by then.” A lot has changed in a year, Jeongyeon thinks. Five of them married, but all that Jeongyeon can think about right now is the feeling of Sana’s hand curled against her own on the wooden floor, the backs of their heads on little blocks of cloth, the two of them staring up at the night sky, pulled open in front of their eyes.

“I wasn’t drunk,” Sana giggles, pulling closer to her. “I remember.”

“When I’m with you it feels like we’re alone at the edge of the world,” Jeongyeon says, softly. “Then and now.”

Sana looks at her. Her eyes are bright, like the brightest star in the sky that night, sending waves of dim light across Sana’s face.

Sana takes Jeongyeon’s hands in her own suddenly, and her palms are sweaty. “Yoo Jeongyeon-ssi,” she’s saying, seriously, and Jeongyeon almost expects her to sink down on one knee. She’s tired of this dance they’ve been doing, and Sana must be too.

“Will you be the Ari to my Grande?” Sana says, giggling into the curve of her neck. Jeongyeon lets whatever has clammed up in her chest unravel, soft and slow, to the sound of Sana’s voice.

 _Of course,_ Jeongyeon thinks. 

“Wanna get out of here?” She says, into the shell of Sana ear instead, and the other girl laughs.

“At your best friend’s wedding?”

Sana’s hand is warm in her own. Jeongyeon wants to see it: stars, in the way Sana tilts her head to meet her own. The way Sana slips a hand down her back and doesn’t stop, not now that Jeongyeon has moved to meet her.

“We’ll make it back in time for the champagne,” Jeongyeon says, and tugs. Sana follows, to the beat of their own drum.

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
